She laughed. “Planning the fun kinda takes the fun out of fun. And anyway, maybe it’s also about adventure. Spontaneous adventure.”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, watching her as he still stroked Thor into a pleasure coma. “I can think of a few things that if planned right, would be the epitome of fun and adventurous.”

She lifted her gaze from her dog’s contented face to Finn’s and found his eyes warm and lit with something. Amusement? Challenge? “Like?”

He set Thor down, back in the sunspot, and rising to his full height, shifted toward Pru.

She backed up a step, a purely instinctual move because while her body knew how badly it wanted him, her mind was all too well aware that it was a colossally stupid move of the highest order.

He merely stepped forward again, backing her flush to the brick wall lining the courtyard.

Her breathing had gone ragged. Even more so when he leaned into her with his hands on either side of her head. “You’re a contradiction,” he murmured. “A push pull.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re oil and water,” she managed.

Hands still on her, blocking her escape—not that she wanted to escape those strong arms and that talented mouth—he flashed her a hot look. “Do you want this, Pru?”

She wasn’t one hundred percent certain what “this” was, but she was one hundred percent certain that she wanted it. And God help her, she wanted it bad, too. When she gave a jerky nod, his hand came up and cupped her jaw, his fingers sliding into her hair, his thumb slowly, lazily, rasping over her lower lip. He watched the movement with a heat that made her legs wobble.

She swallowed hard. “We’re in the center of the courtyard.”

“What happened to adventurous?” he murmured, his thumb making another slow, intoxicating pass over her lip.

As always, her mouth worked independently of her brain and opened so she could sink her teeth lightly into the pad of his thumb.

He hissed in a breath. The sound egged her on and she sucked his thumb between her lips.

His eyes dilated to black.

Yeah. Suddenly she was feeling very . . . adventurous. Before she could stop herself, her arms encircled his broad shoulders, her fingers sinking into his hair.

This wrenched a low, sexy “mmmm” from him like he was a big, rumbling wildcat. A big, rumbly wildcat who clearly wanted more because he drew her up against him and lowered his lips to hers.

Meeting him halfway, she went up on her tiptoes. He slid a hand up her back to palm the back of her neck, holding her right where he wanted her. Then and only then did his mouth finally cover hers, his kiss slow and sweet.

After, he pulled back and looked into her eyes, smiling at whatever he saw—probably dazed lust. He kissed her again, not slow and most definitely not sweet this time. Again he ended it too soon but when he lifted his head, the rough pad of his thumb slid back and forth over her jaw while she struggled to turn her brain back on.

“Pru.”

And oh, that deliciously rough morning voice. It slid over her like the morning sun, and made her eyes drift shut.

“You take the rugrat,” he said. “I’ll get your box.”

Her eyes flew open. He was holding Thor again. “What?”

“I’ll help you upstairs,” he said.

Where her bed was. Oh God, had she made her bed? Wait—was she wearing good panties?

She mentally shook herself because none of that mattered. You’re not going there with him, remember? She couldn’t, wouldn’t, because she hadn’t yet told him who she was. She wasn’t ready to do that. Because she knew that once she did, this would be over. He wouldn’t want to be friends with the woman whose family had stolen his. He wouldn’t want to make her fancy virgin cocktails or pet her silly dog.

Or kiss her stupid . . .

The truth was, he was the best thing to happen to her in a damn long time. And yes, it was selfish. And wrong.

And she hated herself for it.

But she couldn’t tell him, not yet. “I’ve got it,” she said. “Really. I’m good.”

She just wished she meant it.

Chapter 10

#KarmaIsABitch

It was rare for Finn to find himself on unsure ground. Typically if he needed something, he handled it himself. If he wanted something, he went after it.

He both wanted and needed Pru. That was fact. The knowledge had been sitting in the frontal lobe of his brain and in the bottom of his gut, and also definitely decidedly south of both.

It’d been like that for him since the night she’d walked into his pub dripping wet and smiled that smile at him. And then she’d nailed him with that dart and he’d kissed her, and the problem had only compounded itself.